


Aftermath

by SkylandMountain1013



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, everyone has a sad, post finale speculation, season 4, someone take care of these poor babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 21:57:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10908249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkylandMountain1013/pseuds/SkylandMountain1013
Summary: There’s no fanfare when they save the world. No ticker tape parade, no messages from the adoring public.They’re not those kinds of heroes.





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Who's ready to be destroyed during the finale? 
> 
> I really have no idea what is going to go down. So this could all be AU come Tuesday.

When it’s over- finally _over_ \- they look to Coulson for orders.

They are once again leaderless, trying to navigate without equipment. And he has always been their North Star.

“Take the week,” he says _._ “Take care of yourselves, and each other.”

He hears Mace in his head and tries not to flinch. _An exhausted team is not an efficient team._ “And then, we go back to work.”

Because there’s no fanfare when they save the world. No ticker tape parade, no messages from the adoring public.

They’re not those kinds of heroes.

\---------------

Mack is the only one who ends up leaving. The team doesn’t protest, not even Elena. No one can imagine what it’s like to have to lose your child twice. 

They gather in what’s left of the kitchen, an unspoken agreement to be together. The lights are flickering and the pipes are leaking, but the room is sound. They sit on crates and half shattered chairs, and manage to find enough flat surface to hold a case of beer.

There is no conversation at first. Too much has happened, not enough has been resolved, so many have been lost.

It is Daisy who finally speaks. “We should drink to Director Mace. He would have appreciated us being all here.” She lifts her bottle off the table.

Fitz shifts in his seat, hands fidgeting with the label in front of him.

Simmons joins her salute. “To the Patriot- A hero inside the Framework and out.”

He deserves more, but it’s the least they can do.

Elena lifts her bottle towards the sky. “ _A quien Dios ama, le llama.”_

“Whom God loves, He calls,” Coulson offers, and she nods. He feels May’s hand slip into his under the table.

They drink in silent remembrance.

Glass slamming against the table breaks them out of their reverie. Fitz pushes back from the table with a stammered, “I can’t.” He’s out the door before anyone can respond.

Simmons calls out for him to no avail. She catches May’s eye and the older woman nods and mouths, “ _Go._ ”

 -----------------

“I’m fine,” she snarls, putting more venom into her voice than she probably needs to. Maybe it’ll get the point across.

 Simmons is undeterred. “Agent May, I need to make sure that there are no lasting effects from your time in the Framework. You were in there much longer than anyone else.”

She can’t keep herself from rolling her eyes. “Yes, I had an extra three weeks to lie around while everyone else put themselves in danger looking for me. I’m _fine_.”

Simmons snaps. “And then you shot yourself full of epinephrine, almost drowned in a submarine, flew a plane for 13 hours straight and fought off yet another army of killer robots!” The younger agent’s hand grips May’s wrist. “So you are going to sit down, and let me take care of you. _Someone_ has to let me take care of them!”

It’s the hint of hysteria in her voice that makes May relent. She’s been on that precipice before. She sits back down on the gurney and rolls up her sleeve.

“How’s Fitz doing?”

She is quiet in her answer. “He won’t talk to me. Anyone, really.”

May nods. “He has a lot to process.” 

“So I’m just supposed to watch him- watch him hurt? I don’t think I can do that.”

She remembers the weeks after Bahrain- sleepless nights, days filled with anything to keep her mind busy. At the lowest point, she had left Andrew a note and checked into a hotel for a weekend. She had needed somewhere with no attachment. Coulson showed up an hour later (all these years later she still doesn’t know how he located her) and sat with her. Sat as she screamed, sat as she sobbed, sat as she tried to piece herself back together enough to function.

 She’s been in the hole Fitz is in right now.

 “You can’t fight his demons for him,” is all she can offer.

Procedure done, May slides down and starts to head towards the door.

“Simmons,” she calls right before exiting. “Just keep showing him you’re there.”

Jemma nods and goes back to arranging her equipment.

 ------------------

 She’s not surprised to find Coulson in the hangar— he’s half in the shadows, hands in his pockets, looking wistfully at Lola. The car is worse for the wear, but still in one piece.

Her shoes click against the metal floor as she closes the space between them. The echo alerts him to her presence.

“I’m amazed she survived.”

“I think that car has more lives than you do.” Her quip carries unexpected weight. Everything is heavy these days.

He runs his hand across the center of the hood, feeling where smooth meets charred remains of paint. He had always tried to take such care with his prized possession. “Man and machine. Becoming more alike each day.”

“How so?”

His fingers move from the car to the front of his shirt. “Damaged.”

“Battle tested.” Her fingers cover his.

Silence rests between them, and it is neither comfortable nor uneasy. It just is.

“I can’t be Director again.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

She widens her stance as her arms fold back over her chest. “Talbot will come around, “ she states. “He always does. And besides, this wouldn’t be the first time SHIELD has to step back into the shadows.”

He shakes his head. “It’s the personal costs. I can’t-I can’t be the one to force this team into danger. I can’t make that decision anymore. It’s too much.” His voice hitches at the end. He turns away from her and swipes at his eyes.

“Everyone took the same oath leaving the Academy. This is part of the job.”

He’s still looking in the other direction. “Agent Davis _had a newborn_.” His hand kneads at the back of his neck. “I can’t be objective. Someone else needs to lead.”

She steps around Lola to position herself in front of him. “This is your decision to make. But if you think this team only follows you because of a title—you’re wrong. They’re not kids anymore, but Daisy, Fitz, Simmons—they need you.”

“They shouldn’t.” His words are raw.

She tucks her hand under his chin and lifts his head. “Look at me.” The weight of two lives is reflected in his eyes. “ _I_ need you.”

His shoulders start to shake and she’s around him in an instant. He gulps for air as she buries her nose in his hair.

“It’s okay,” she breathes into him.

He finally lets himself break.

 

\--------------

It’s late, far too late to be awake, but sleep has eluded him for what feels like a lifetime.

So he roams the halls instead. They’ve spent the week fixing what they can, but things are beyond repair—they will have to find somewhere else to operate.

But they are _alive_ , and he tells himself that’s enough.

He steps into the common room to make some tea and stops when he makes out the figures in front of him.

Daisy, Fitz, and Simmons are tangled in a heap on the couch—all in their clothes from the day, all sound asleep. Fitz has his head burrowed into Daisy’s side, and Jemma is nestled into the crook of her neck.

They can’t be comfortable, but he doesn’t have the heart to wake them. He thinks everyone deserves some peace right now.

He’s leaned up against the doorframe watching them when warmth engulfs him, arms snaking around from behind.

“I used to find them like this all the time,” May says through his t-shirt.

He moves his hands so they cover hers. “They’ve been through more than anyone should.”

She spins him so they’re facing each other. “And we’re all still here.”

“We’re all still here,” he repeats.

She stretches to leave the faintest of touches against his lips. “Come back to bed.”

He nods, and follows her lead. 

As always. 


End file.
